


Stages of S, and Finality

by jyuubi



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Implied Time Travel, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not everything is mentioned in tags, Romance, Self-Indulgent, So beware, Teen Romance, Uchiha Sasuke Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-23
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29659239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuubi/pseuds/jyuubi
Summary: Sasuke liked to paint?-“Sorry,” he breathes, unable to look at Sakura. He can already hear the tears in Sakura’s voice, and he’s not far away from his own tears showing up— nope, nevermind— fuck, they’re there.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura & Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 31
Kudos: 68





	Stages of S, and Finality

**Author's Note:**

> IMPORTANT  
> \- We’ll be diving into depression and suicide (not graphic), so if you’re not comfortable with that, maybe this isn’t for you.  
> \- This is my /personal/ depiction of depression. aka me projecting. lol ^

The first time Naruto sees Sasuke’s war-roughed hand once more, it comes with the extra surprise of paint. Dark blues and dirty purples staining his fingers, lodged underneath already short nails. When he insists to see whatever Sasuke’s making, however, he’s denied, left to wallow by the door slammed into his face. 

He’s packed ramen, and he’s brought them to share, but now he’s stood there dejected. 

“Hey!” He yells, slamming a bandaged hand against the wood. “Sasuke!” 

A little surprise welcome back party is what he’d prepared, and while he isn’t exactly allowed to drink or buy alcohol yet, the consequences for slipping his hands into Tsunade’s _sake_ stock underneath her desk is something he’s willing to face. He’s not that far from legality, anyway. 

A frown on his face, he’s about to turn around, face the road and face the rain, yell about Sasuke being a jackass on the street, but the door swings open after a long wait of thirty seconds, and he’s welcomed into the space by Sasuke’s retreating back. 

He hops his way out of his slippers, excited, resting his umbrella by the door, he takes in the place; the pale blue walls heavily dimmed with lack of light, shadows sharp against the many edges of Sasuke’s studio apartment. 

A twin-sized bed, a table, a cabinet, and nothing else. Two cardboard boxes rest on top of each other in one corner by the small kitchen. It’s alright, though, this emptiness; he knows Sasuke’s long lost everything he once owned, and learning to live— here in Konoha— once more is what he needs. Naruto’s tasked himself that once more, knight-complex coming into play— or perhaps it’s just his persistent need to keep the boy’s presence close, but now that everything’s settled, his focus is back on Sasuke. 

(Like how it’s always been, of course, and it’s embarrassing how he can’t seem to shake the feeling away, but now the threat of Sasuke leaving ever again is nothing but a memory.)

Not like it mattered right now. This was a welcoming party.

A one-on-one welcoming party, but still a welcoming party.

He kicks his slippers away, slamming the door behind him shut. It sends a light tremor throughout the thin walls, the wind it creates blowing against his shirt. Once the door is locked, and the tremor fades, Naruto realizes the apartment is more still than an inhabited home ought to be. The rain too, though muffled, can’t seem to overpower the lull. 

Sasuke is silent, stood by his table, looking on at the span of what Konoha has become through his window. His hand, sitting innocently on the wood; palms no longer dirtied, nails still tinted blue tapping carelessly. 

It makes for an interesting image, serene in ways that shouldn’t be serene; Sasuke’s ability to make the worst things work out best for him, even when it comes to things he considered shallow, like looking good. Naruto had once despised it— an ugly mix of jealousy and annoyance, but not long after, he had fallen victim to its abilities, and now he’s finally given time to appreciate them for what they are. 

By the floor, is Sasuke’s materials, a wooden palette smeared with colors he can’t discern because it’s too dark, the same palette he remembers Sai giving him to pass to Sasuke; a thanks, apparently— and what for, he didn’t know. His two dark-haired teammates seemed to gravitate towards one other, a wordless understanding between them when the Naruto thought the two would’ve despised each other. 

“You’re an idiot,” Sasuke says, and Naruto’s eyes meet dark ones in rapt attention. He couldn’t find whatever thing Sasuke’s working on, and Sasuke only rolls his eyes when he notices him searching. “Standing out there for so long, how are you not drenched?” 

Naruto cocks a brow, brushing over the insult, because at this point it’s Sasuke’s way of endearment. Neither did he spend any time contemplating on whether or not to knock on Sasuke’s door, but maybe it was Sasuke’s Naruto-sensors coming into play. “Is this your way of saving your pride, after instantly opening the door like that?” 

“Instantly opened it _after_ you finally knocked,” Sasuke scoffs. Naruto blinks, then he stifles a laugh at his friend’s need to emphasize like it’d change anything. With a glare, likely annoyed at Naruto’s newfound ability to be more insightful, Sasuke continues, “So, what are you doing here?” 

Holding up the plastic bag, Naruto reaches for the light switch to his left. He smiles, watching Sasuke’s eyebrows crinkle, questioning, shadows underneath his eyes highlighted under the artificial light. “Food!” 

+++

“Oh.” 

He can’t find the right words. Sasuke was making something. It’s barely visible in the dark, but it’s there. 

The space is still as dull and dim as the first time he’s visited the week after Sasuke moved in; but this time, it’s even more unkempt, sheets a crumpled mess on the bed, a fine layer of dust gathering by the one cabinet Sasuke has. Leaning onto the wall, from this angle, Naruto can see two or three canvases squeezed in the narrow space between the cabinet and the wall— the same canvases Sasuke probably hid from him the first time he visited, and that’s probably gathering dust too. _That,_ he isn’t going to risk touching, either. 

Paper is scattered all over the floor, keeping the paint from spilling onto the tiles, one lone brush resting on them peacefully. There’s a mug half-filled with murky water, a cloudy, dirty blue— 

paint-water, and he wonders how many times Sasuke accidentally took a sip. 

Naruto hasn’t been in the place in a few weeks, always meeting Sasuke by the market or meeting up in the Hokage tower, sometimes simply bumping into the boy on his way to Ichiraku— just never again in within such closed walls. Not like they haven’t seen each other in forever, either— it’s just. 

He shouldn’t be here— barging into Sasuke’s home when the boy hasn’t welcomed him in, but _he is,_ and now he can’t seem to look away from the canvas held up by a wall of the room, stopped from staining the floor as it sat on the dirtied sheets of paper.

Eyeing the canvas… it’s… he notes, it… it’s… it’s interesting. 

Mildly intriguing, he supposed— he’s sure, uh, yeah. 

…

It’s a mess, actually— well, a type of clearly work-in-progress mess— _was this what they called abstract?_

Most of the canvas seemed to be coated in purple, though there were tiny little peaks of rough, patchy white from lack of paint in some areas, and layered above are streaks of navy blue, thick and careless strokes of squares and triangles. Was this— and he remembers Sai telling him about it— geometric-y abstract? Geometric abstract? Geometrical abstraction? 

In some ways, though, as he squints and takes a closer look, sitting by the stretched piece of fabric, it began to look like some sort of landscape, buildings, and roofs of some sort. It takes a little brainpower, more than the monkey-brain he’s got out front, but to some degree, he’s exaggerating with how he can’t tell if it’s anything _but_ a landscape. 

_Look,_ he’s never presumed Sasuke as an artist, and this revelation; finally seeing the piece— or the process— makes it a shocking discovery. And no matter how messy it is, or how dull the room is, how he’s not supposed to _be_ here, there’s a level of curiosity he can’t seem to shake. 

Standing in the dull room, he waits for nothing.

Yeah, _wow._ Sasuke’s never been this messy. 

With one final glance at Sasuke’s secretly developing art piece, he makes it out of the room, hopping out the window Sasuke didn’t care to lock. He’ll find his friend another day. 

+++

This time, Sasuke’s hand is tainted mostly red and blue. There’re some black streaks amongst his colorful skin, and it makes Naruto wonder just exactly what he’s making now. He hasn’t seen Sasuke’s other pieces, and it rekindles the curiosity that’s faded dim— he wasn’t a big art person. 

“Aren’t you going to let me in?” Naruto asks, holding up to eye-level the plastic bags he has in his hands. Instead of a mix of ramen and sake, it’s only four sake bottles, this time to taken from Tsunade’s new hidden stock.

The sake bottles are cold and kept cold as he was on his way here. It’s gotten colder, getting closer to snowing with every passing day, but it doesn’t seem to matter to Sasuke. He’s still wearing the same thin long-sleeved shirt he usually wears, thin pants that reach right above his ankles. Again, Sasuke still looks good, while he feels ridiculous even when he’s only added a scarf to his usual outfit. 

A month, this time. 

A month since he’s seen Sasuke. 

Mostly because he’d gotten a mission that had him sent to Suna, the first mission given to them outside Konoha, and when Sasuke announced how he didn’t want to go, not he nor Sakura could convince him otherwise— they didn’t want to, too, because Sasuke seemed to hellbent in staying. The boy had asked for an early vacation, and he’d gotten it. Tsunade wasn’t so pleased, suspicious when he’d brought up them being the strongest shinobi there is, and there wasn’t a need for three of them the same area; when it had never been like that, especially with the maintained peace after the war. 

_We’re still a team,_ Naruto wanted to yell, but there was a deeply annoyed gleam to Sasuke’s eyes, and dare he say fear. 

Sasuke wraps his arm around himself, leaning by the narrow doorway, blocking Naruto from entering. Naruto eyes him questioningly, and leans the other way, looking over Sasuke’s shoulder. The room was as dark as usual, and with one not-so-subtle whiff, he notes how it smells so much like paint and cardboard. 

The only light that does enter the room— though heavily hindered by his and Sasuke’s figures, and the rapidly setting sun— doesn’t reach further than the edge of the table within the shadows of Sasuke’s apartment. Sasuke looks like he hasn’t slept in days, maybe weeks, maybe the entire month and more than Naruto hadn’t taken a closer look, and it provides incentive for him to push and insist they have a drink. 

“Well?” He swings the bags he has in hand, but Sasuke’s eyes don’t leave his. 

Sasuke ignores him. “You didn’t need to send shadow clones after me,” he says, “I can take care of myself.”

Naruto lowers the bags— he doesn’t remember sending shadow clones— he honestly doesn’t even remember sending shadow clones, even in Suna; he doesn’t forget _not_ dispelling them, at least. 

“I know you can,” Naruto frowns, but with how bleary and tired Sasuke looks, he’s beginning to doubt it. Beginning. “That’s why I didn’t?” He perhaps sounds too skeptical for Sasuke to believe, but it’s the truth. 

It’s starting to feel eerie, this overly reactive Naruto-sensor Sasuke has going on, because there’s no way any of whatever chakra he somehow left behind hadn’t faded away or after a month. Kurama’s starting to get suspicious, too, but even he can’t pinpoint what exactly Sasuke’s talking about— and if there’s anyone best at sensing their chakra, it’s Kurama. 

“…Whatever,” Sasuke says after a while, squinting his eyes in suspicion. “What do you want?” 

“We haven’t met in over a month, asshole,” Naruto gives him an eye-roll, “And I got all this sake for us. Let’s have a drink— I know you liked it. You got all giggly.” 

“It’s afternoon,” Sasuke stands a little straighter, looking slightly more alive, and Naruto takes it that Sasuke’s at least a little intrigued. His next words, though— _so extremely Sasuke,_ Naruto is happy to note— juxtapose what his initial reaction seemed to imply. Because he’s Sasuke, and he never really likes admitting to liking Naruto’s seemingly braindead ideas. “And I didn’t likeit. Nor did I want to be giggly. Alcohol just does things to you. Neither do I have time to drink. I have things to do.” 

“The sun is setting, Sas,” Naruto laughs lightly, and it puts a frown on Sasuke’s face. They both know what he’s thinking. “You can continue your painting tomorrow, y’know. You’ve got all the time in the world, and you’re still on vacation,” at the words, Sasuke glares at him, but Naruto continues, “Or you can paint while I drink. I just want company. Your company.” 

_“No,”_ Sasuke instantly denies, much too fast that Naruto ends up mirroring the boy’s expression. But Sasuke doesn’t push or slam the door into Naruto’s face like Naruto expects him to, so Naruto pauses. “Fine. Just. Wait here,” is all Sasuke says before he does close the door— not fully, and when Naruto peeks at the little space that’s left, all he can see is a wall. 

He hears and sees the lights flicker on, light peeking from the indoors laying over him until the building lights above him turn on too. Naruto can hear some muffled clattering, Sasuke clearly in some type of rush, and Naruto’s mind is in limbo; wondering whether he should be worried or amused. 

+++

The three of them are back to doing missions in Konoha. Well, in truth, none of them did— while Sakura was the only Jounin among them three, she was the one responsible in the hospital, and couldn’t take any missions. She’s got her research, too, and it took time from what Naruto thought they should’ve been spending together. Naruto was busy training for Hokage because at that point it didn’t feel like he needed to say he was training for Jounin— he _wasn’t,_ no matter how much Sakura teased him about it. 

Sasuke, on the other hand, refused to accept mundane missions around the village— which was understandable, because oftentimes those missions meant dealing with people Sasuke considered prissy. Missions outside the village weren’t available, either— no one needed Konoha’s help, and while Tsunade trusted Sasuke’s power, the boy didn’t seem to push for a dangerous mission anyway. 

Though Tsunade was annoyed by his indolence, she let Sasuke off mildly, giving him a bunch of scrolls to sort out. _A bunch,_ as in a pile that looked as though Sasuke was drowning in it, and Naruto could only look in horror as he was handed the items too and told to help Sasuke. 

He knew, at some point, he’d have to sort things out and face the stacks of paper Tsunade too is currently drowning in, but facing the fact didn’t mean it would comfort him. 

“Hokage is just a title,” Sasuke tells him once Naruto was done with his rant. Naruto had just finished taking a written test, so incredibly burnt out, and ended up just trudging towards Sasuke’s apartment with an armful of scrolls. 

It was the first time in a while he’d been allowed to enter without waiting. Sasuke’s currently skimming a scroll, and Naruto absentmindedly tries to remember the last time he’d seen Sasuke’s hand stained with color. The materials— brushes, palette, and paint-mug are clean, sitting innocently above Sasuke’s cabinet. The canvases aren’t in the open, hidden, but the one nail in the wall, hidden from plain sight if you stood by the front door, tells him Sasuke at least didn’t hide it constantly. 

“A title I’ve been working for since forever, Sas,” Naruto sighs, shoulders rising and falling as he takes a deep breath and a long exhale. He takes a sip of the sake he left here, just barely half a bottle, internally gagging at the taste because he still can’t seem to get used to it. “And I still want it. The title, to be Hokage. It just looks stressful— and I’m willing to face it.” 

“…Aren’t you tired?” Sasuke asks after a while. He doesn’t look at Naruto when he asks this, and Naruto arches a brow. 

“No. I can’t just be tired, all of the sudden,” Naruto eyes the scrolls Sasuke have in hand. He doesn’t know what the boy was doing with them, but he tries to help anyway, reading some of the scrolls and making a few piles of his own.

“…Not when I’m so close,” he continues, downing all of the sake he’s got left in his cup, trying to relish the cold sweetness before suffering through the foul aftertaste, “So close, Sas. So close. It’s a title, and it comes with the responsibility I’m afraid of but it’s the responsibility I want— I love Konoha, and I want to protect it. I want people to look up at me.”

“You’re already doing all of that, aren’t you. What does the title change? It practically doesn’t mean anything anymore,” Sasuke scoffs, but the bitter hint to it makes Naruto pause. 

“What’s wrong?” And it must be too sudden because Sasuke stiffens and looks up at him. 

“What? Why are you suddenly asking that?” 

“I’unno…” Naruto shrugs. Then, he pushes, repeating, “What’s wrong?” 

“What the fuck— nothing’s wrong. Stop asking,” Sasuke sounds like he’s in disbelief, and his fingers mindlessly tap against the scrolls. 

Naruto snorts, the memory of Sasuke entering battle only to announce his new ambition to become Hokage suddenly in the forefront of his mind. Did the boy want to be Hokage with him? “People get concerned, Sas, you need to build up that tolerance.” 

“There’s not much to learn to tolerate,” Naruto finds it slightly offensive how easily the boy says it, and he nearly bursts in surprise, but Sasuke rolls his eyes, “I’m alright, idiot.” 

+++

“When are you going to give me a painting?” 

Naruto spots another nail on the wall, a meter away from the first one. He’s never seen a completed painting, and Sasuke’s been in his house too often for him to sneak in and take a peek. Sasuke’s sensors are off the charts, too, so when he tries to look over the boy’s shoulder every time he _does_ visit, though rarely, the paintings are gone. _Hidden—_ if they ever were put up, in the first place. 

He enters the room, flicking the lights on. The curtains are open, enough light falling into the room, but it’s beginning to dim as the sun started to fall, and in the dark, he sees Sasuke less and less. Sasuke’s bed is still a mess, but there isn’t much to critique when his bed is practically the same state. 

Sasuke picks up his brushes, plopping them in his paint-mug before lifting the cup off the floor, moving to place it above his cabinet. Then he picks up his stray sheets of paper, careful not to let the paint it’s stained with touch the floor, piling them on the table before answering Naruto. 

“Why do you want one?” 

“I’d like to appreciate whatever my friend’s made.” 

Sasuke looks at him like he’s stupid. “You’re so damn corny.” 

Naruto beams, “All for you.” At his words, Sasuke’s face scrunch up in disgust, looking utterly repulsed as he pushes his chairs in with a pink-green dirty hand. Sasuke visibly shivers, probably slightly exaggerated, and Naruto laughs, “Well, let’s go!”

He’s still by the door, slippers on and ready to go, but Sasuke isn’t moving. 

“I’m not going.” 

“No way,” Naruto frowns, “It’s been forever since we’ve eaten in Ichiraku. Months. Nearly a year. You need to see how much it’s changed. Sakura wants to talk to you.” 

“We’ve talked. We talk. And you bring me ramen all the time, it doesn’t matter.” 

“…Just this once,” Naruto pleads, “Come on, we miss you.” 

“No.” Sasuke scowls, and he’s likely just grossed out with how Naruto’s being, but they both know Naruto isn’t doing this to tease him.

“Please—” 

_“No.”_ Sasuke pushes. The word is quick and concise. He doesn’t leave space for argument, doesn’t even look at Naruto as he reaches for the light switch and turns it off. “And stop sending your shadow clones. It’s annoying.” 

Naruto hardens on his feet, grown tired. He still doesn’t know what Sasuke’s talking about, and Kurama simply deduces with a mumble that Sasuke’s gone a little crazy. 

“Fine,” he snaps, ripping the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

+++

Naruto breathes against Sasuke’s neck. He doesn’t remember how he got here, why he’s got Sasuke’s thighs slung over his hips, his hands sticky and wet, but he’s here, and Sasuke’s lone hand is clawing against his shoulder. 

Naruto feels Sasuke’s skin dampen with every hot exhale, and he’s too afraid to look up and check if the hesitant sniffles meant Sasuke was crying. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?” 

“…Sorry.” 

It’s the first time he’s ever _heard_ Sasuke apologize, and it sets him into a conflicting mix of worry and awe. It sounds defeated, tired, and Naruto doesn’t know what exactly to make out of it. 

“Don’t be,” He muffles into Sasuke’s collarbone, but he isn’t sure if it’s loud enough for Sasuke to hear. 

Smearing his hands on his pants, he tugs Sasuke closer, flopping them over on Sasuke’s bed. Naruto can sense Sasuke’s eyes on him, observant, but he tightens the arms he has around his friend-more-than-friend, eyes closed as he grasps the back of Sasuke’s head, tucking him into his shoulder. 

It’s only subtle, the tremors, how his shoulder starts to feel too warm and too wet, but he feels it and he knows it; Sasuke is crying, and still he can’t seem to figure out why. 

For now, Sasuke is here, and he should relish that. 

=== 

“Papa! _Heeeey—_ papa!” 

It’s only a little voice by the corner of his consciousness, pushy, tickling his ears; too light for him to correctly determine whether what he was feeling was real or not. 

“Dad, wake the f— wake up!” 

With a gasp, Naruto jolts awake, immediately reduced to a coughing fit as he holds his stomach. His little gremlins just slammed themselves on his stomach. “What the—”

“Oops, sorry, Dad. But Auntie Sakura’s waiting for you downstairs.” 

“Yup, she said bring the stuff too! Bring the stuff!” 

Naruto chuckles, wiping away the drool that’s smeared by his lip. He pats his daughter on the head with his other hand, carefully extracting himself from her grip to stand up. “Tell her I’m on my way.” 

“Okie!” 

He stretches, sniffing the air; stomach growling once he senses the deep aroma of the usual breakfast miso soup. There’s still a presence in the room, though, so he arches a brow, looking down at his son pointedly when he doesn’t leave. “Well? Go on. Go with your sister. Shoo.” 

With a huff, Boruto turns around, stomping out his home office. Naruto sighs, searching through his memory what exactly he’d done to elicit such a violent reaction, but he can’t find anything, so for now excuses it as his child acting like a child, and that was alright. Snatching the orange jacket he’s laid over the arm of his sofa, he slips it on, leaving it opened as he searches for the bag he’s prepared the other night.

When he spots, the black bag, fallen under his desk, he carefully reaches for it, tugging it open to see if any damage was done. 

Nothing. _Thankfully._

He’s taken care of it too much for it to suddenly be spoiled. It doesn’t even look run-down, and it’s enough to rejuvenate the nerve that’s withered so quickly this morning. Tucking the large bag under his arm, he walks out the room, shutting the door behind him and trudging down the stairs. 

“Oh, he’s here,” he can hear the gentle voice of his wife. “Take care,” She says, and it isn’t directed to him, “Give my well wishes too.” 

“To this day I think the two of you would be good friends, had you at least talked to each other.” Sakura’s laugh echoes lightly throughout his home, and it’s then where the pink-haired woman enters his sight. 

“Definitely,” Hinata hums as Naruto approaches her and presses a kiss to her cheek. He feels her tap his shoulder in gentle assurance, and he grasps her hand lightly, squeezing in thanks. 

“Hi, Sakura-chan,” he smiles, and she smiles back. There's the same tension between them that  the two of them are willing to carry. _Have_ been carrying. 

“Let’s go?” She suggests, raising the packed lunch he knows is from Hinata. Naruto follows the movement, and nods. 

The kids are innocently looking at them, and Naruto beams, waving lightly before he began to head towards the front door. “Off we go!” 

+

“How are you?” 

“Are you—” 

Naruto chuckles, but unlike before, with how much they've grown, he no longer needs to point out how they keep interrupting each other.  “I’m alright. What about you?”

Sakura gives a sad sigh, tugging the lunch bag closer to her side. Naruto’s mood immediately drops, his face a reflection of Sakura’s frown. “Today? Let’s be real. I feel like shit.” 

“Sorry,” he breathes, unable to look at Sakura. He can already hear the tears in Sakura’s voice, and he’s not far away from his showing up— nope, nevermind— fuck, they’re there. 

They’re at the gates, only around fifty meters away, and they’re already crumbling. The rest of the way is made in silence, and Naruto is looking up into the air as he tries to breathe. 

“Damn,” he says, and the tears begin to spill. He's stood right over it. To this day, it feels so surreal. So surreal he can't say it. He can't put it in his own words. 

“I hate you so much," he continues, "I’ll be Hokage soon, and you won’t be able to see it. Won’t be able to hate me— tease me— annoy me for being so attached to a damn _title._ To this damn village.” 

Sakura scoffs beside him, defeated, placing the lunch box on the ground. She wipes her face with her sleeve, ears feeling like they’re about to pop. She always ends up leaving the talking to Naruto when they’re at this point. 

“Sakura-chan, she’s—” Naruto swallows, “She’s started a hospital, a place, to help people going through things you’ve gone through. She’s also getting married soon, and you won’t be able to be there. I know you’d tease her for getting over you, but be proud of her because she’s done so many awesome things and she only continues to add to it.

“I… I hate you. So much. As much as I love you. You fucking asshole, I bet you’d be gagging right now. I don’t care. You— you didn’t deserve—” 

His eyes, glazed wet, trail over the stone that’s by his feet. 

Every day, Naruto lives in shame. 

Every day, it feels like he’s gone back with the opportunity to change something. 

Every day, he’s eaten by the memories of his weakness. 

Sakura blames herself too. 

She cries, she falls. 

The paintings he’d been given, the day— that day— the paintings that Sasuke handed to him with a smile, the paintings he’d accepted with another smile of his own. 

He was _smiling._ He smiled when he handed those paintings, the blues and purple, the red and bright blues, the pinks and greens, the memory Naruto never thought he’d have to grasp so desperately as he did now. 

Strong, calloused, slender, beautiful hands tainted with color.

Finally, he thought. Sasuke— 

He was eighteen. He was young. He was powerful. Headstrong, sassy, sarcastic asshole. 

Full of promise— full of future, full of lies, full of truth. 

The last of his kind. 

_ Uchiha Sasuke.  _

— 

**_War hero, Uchiha Sasuke commits suicide._ **

_“He was in good spirits for the first time in a long time— we... we didn’t know better.”_


End file.
